En l'air
by Lady Merlin
Summary: The Five Times Jim Danced with Someone Else and The One Time He Danced with Spock. Self explanatory, really. KirkSpock SLASH. Man-On-Man dears. SixShot.
1. Chapter 1

Hey! I know I know I have other shit I should be doing, but I can't stop myself! I _must_ write this fic in which Jim is sototallyAwesome(!) and is able to dance his way (literally) outta/into sticky situations and shit, because he knows how to (wait for it) _dance_! Yeah. Sorry. I know that was an epic let down, but I couldn't help myself. Then it's obvious that I had to involve Spock, 'cuz, you know. *meaningful looks*

So either way, enjoy this story (a product of the above premises) manned by characters whom I do not own titled, The Five Times Jim Kirk Danced with Someone Else and The One Time He Danced With Spock. Yay! Another long title!

**.~*One*~.**

Spock found himself in a small bar, which he assumed to be quite popular amongst students as a meeting place for various reasons, primarily socializing.

Nyota had been unnecessarily worried that he would find the pulsating noise and lights disruptive to any sort of conversation, which was what he desired with the bright young attractive female cadet from his linguistics class.

He was attired, he hoped, suitably, in a black button-down collared shirt, and what his co-workers informed him was known as 'a pair of stonewashed _Levi's'_. They were made of a fascinating blend of materials which merited a full fledged experiment of their own, but currently he was pre-occupied by other thoughts, mainly of Nyota.

There appeared to be a free flow of alcoholic beverages, which young students consumed without inhibition. He marveled at the bravery of a young cadet as she imbibed a lavender coloured liquid in a container that looked like a conical flask and grimaced at the taste, presumably unaware of what the substance was to start with.

He vaguely wondered which alcoholic beverages Nyota indulged in, and if they sold tea here.

Abruptly there was a chorus of cheers and claps as a new song comes on, and a young man with summer-hair breaks away from the pulsing throng pulling a stunning young woman with him, prettier than Nyota. They are both smiling, and both exceedingly attractive, and the man swings the woman with confidence as the crowd clears from the floor, all eyes on them. Some obliging _Disk-Jockey_ focuses the spot-light onto them, and Spock is gone.

The young man is _breath-taking_, beautiful in a way he is _sure_ all of Vulcan would appreciate. He knows the man. He believes this is Cadet Jim Kirk, whose test scores were so extra-ordinary that they had to be removed in order to maintain a normal grading curve. He has also heard much else about this man, despite the fact that he does not indulge in gossip.

He once attempted to flirt with Nyota, and rollicked in violence when another cadet with the misfortunate nickname of 'Cupcake' offered to defend Nyota, calling him, in effect, a man with minimal intellect and less-than-honorable intent. He, however, never attempted to involve Nyota in the argument, and did what he could to defend her, which left a sour-but-acceptable impression on Nyota.

The man was interesting.

But more than that he was captivating. He was smaller than most in build and girth, yet clearly not incapable of defending himself. His smile was bright and polished and his hair was the indescribable sensation of summer and quite obviously provoked a reaction from Spock which resulted in a somewhat poetic (read: pathetic) description.

Most attractive, however, was the lithe and seductive way he and the girl danced, almost choreographed thought Spock was _sure_ they had only just met.

They swayed and curled (there was no other word for it) around each other, touching and then not, gentle fingers brushing skin and sending a thrill up Spock's spine. He found himself watching and unable to translate the image to words, because it somehow destroyed the sanctity of the motion itself, clean and emotive.

His reaction was wholly inappropriate and in no way meant he indulged in voyeurism; the female had made little to no contribution to his reaction. His latent bisexuality (illogical but undeniable) was something he had come to accept, and this was frankly the first time he had ever been so affected by another male.

Until thus he had been viewing them in almost slow-motion (illogical, but he chose to not comment anymore) and suddenly he caught up, watching the two dance in real-time.

It was stunning. It was truly amazing, both the actual dance and the way in which an entire, mostly unrelated society bonded over something as mundane and skill-less as dancing. Not that he had any right to judge, seeing as he had never before danced in his life. He was unable to describe the awe he felt, as an anthropologist, at seeing this kind of societal bonding. The mood in the bar was jovial as other couples spun out to join the original one, and the attention that had been focused to the centre of the dance floor flickered like a guttering candle.

The song came to an end, not soon after and the cadet gracefully spun his partner out by one arm, grinning and breathing heavily, to much applause and shrill whistling. He found eyes only for the way the cadet drew his partner close and kissed her cheek with his full soft lips, brilliant blue eyes flashing.

The fact that he was so affected resulted in much meditation on his part, but he didn't have much time to think, because Nyota was approaching and he stood to greet her. By the time they sat down, the cadet was gone.

Fascinating…

Uh yeah. Okay sorry it was supposed to be so much more focused on Jim's dancing and shit, and it's not at all like the mini-vid that's been playing in my head for the longest time, but I suppose it's okay because there's Spock and there's Jim and they're both hot, even if it's not for each other. I can work with that…

Uhm, please be nice to this? Yeah. I need encouragement here, and reviews will eventually feed my non-existant ego to a state whence I can write much more satisfying fluff for you all. Like, if you get what I mean… *wriggles eyebrows*

REVIEW!!!

_That's a good question, which is usually what adults say if they don't know the answer_--David _from _The Martian Child, which is an AZZKIKR movie because it distracted me and stopped me from crying for a blessed one and a half hours.

Love,  
Lady Merlin

Oh and the song which is playing is either _Remedy_ by Little Boots or _Evacuate the Dancefloor_ by Cascada. I own neither.


	2. Chapter 2

Heys all!

Here's chapter 2, and the same disclaimer applies. You know it does, why must you make me say it?!

**.~*Two*~.**

Their shuttle had landed first, resulting in them having to wait for all the others to arrive before the diplomatic meeting could begin.

This unexpected extra time meant that Spock had had the opportunity to explore their temporary residence. They had, thankfully, avoided a repeat of an incident which had resulted in an almost-war before Jim had managed to convince the Government official that they were neither intentionally and disrespectfully late, nor attempting to steal Government secrets by sneaking around their palace unattended.

Now, the meetings were over, and everyone was (relatively) satisfied, and in the tradition of all gracious hosts, the Teyahan officials had invited them to one final ball to celebrate their success.

The _Enterprise_s' people had arrived almost precisely on the dot, and were glad that the Teyahans shared their respect for punctuality. Dinner was excellent (which was rare in Spock's experience), followed by dancing (which was not all that excellent).

Spock found himself seated in a corner, sipping an interesting variant of cinnamon tea, observing the ball infront of him.

He considered. Earlier Jim had turned up at their meeting place, completely defying their dress-code, wearing something that was a variant of White-Tie attire (Nyota was to be thanked for providing this information). Every other male was dressed in a tuxedo (Starfleet Regulation 16.981). Jim, on the other hand, was wearing a dark grey silk shirt under a pitch black blazer. He was also wearing an off-white tie and black pants which were ironed so precisely that Spock could have sliced bread with the creases.

He found that this phrase was characteristically McCoy-ian and decided at once that he was spending too much time with the annoying, if good, Doctor. He made a note to point out that annoyance is not an emotion.

But this thought appeared in retrospect. At that time he had been much too pre-occupied with Jims' stunning attire. It was good to know he was not the only one. Almost all the females (and several of the males) had looked slightly dazed. He had done _nothing_ to his sunny hair, and yet it seemed to have settled nicely, framing his young face and brilliant eyes perfectly.

Jim wore a scent which Spock (correctly) analysed as Dusk-Rose and Sea-Salt. He later claimed that he found the bouquet comforting, which Spock believed was scientifically accurate (taking into account the nerves which those particular scents affected, but those were naught but details). Again, this was in retrospect. He had been too stunned to think about anything much on the spot.

McCoy (completely unaffected) had commented that Jim cleaned up nice. Spock was inclined to agree.

**.~*~.**

Jim was on the floor, dancing with a willowy human female in a brilliant jewel-magenta gown, both taking smooth confident steps as they made their way around the room, smiling and talking sociably. Spock was so focused on Jim that he did not realise the female was a Government official, a leader who had had much impact on the success of these talks. Of course Jim would be conversing with her. It was a logical choice for people in positions of power to mingle.

The elegant music was smooth and soothing, calming his fracturing nerves but doing nothing for the sting he felt when he saw Jims hand slide lower down his partners back, and she did nothing about it as he grinned charmingly. His grin was a force of nature to be reckoned with; rarely was anyone able to deny his pearly teeth framed by soft pink lips. _Cocksucker lips_, a strangers voice echoed in his head, and he shook it out. He would entertain sexual fantasies about Jim, but not debasing terms. Never that. Jim deserved more.

By now, Spock had acclimatized to his bisexuality, and did not shy from the fact that he appreciated beauty. It would be illogical to deny the fact.

People was watching him now. There was something… _powerful_ in the beauty and grace of his dance and his steps which were elegant and yet sturdy and just so perfect. Spock wondered if the tea he was drinking had been poisoned to cause these kinds of reactions in him. It was most illogical.

Jims' polished black shoes clicked against the marble floor in precise steps, and he appeared intimate with every formal dance that played, including several that were not human.

As he allowed Nyota (with whom he was no longer romantically involved) to lead him out to the floor, he couldn't see her in her dusky grey-blue gown as he swung past Jim and his partner. He could only see Jim and his azure blue eyes and his smile as he noticed Spock and grinned. (He found the selective blindness somewhat annoying, but was getting used to it now)

He tried to not watch as the two (Jim and his partner) made their way to a small concealed garden off the side of the hall, and tried very hard to look at Nyota's eyes and say (honestly) he was not attracted to Jim Kirk. Needless to say, he failed.

**.~*~.**

Well? Naughty terms? Check. Images of sex? Check. Hot-ness? Check. What more could you want? It's a bit shorter than the last one, but I hope the image comes out. I did have a lovely video in my head. Hopefully nothing gets lost in translation. Oh, and sorry for the slight OOC-ness… Please let me know if you can't stand it…

REVIEW!!!

_Every-time you see a rainbow, God is having Gay Sex—_No offense to anyone who's religious. I just found this funny.

Love,

Lady Merlin

P.S. review!

P.P.S has anyone had the experience of story updates arriving late? Like when I published this, the notification email didn't turn up in my inbox, and the review alerts don't turn up either. Any comments?

P.P.P.S Oh, and the cocksucker lips idea? Yeah that doesn't belong to me either. I read it somewhere and it stuck. Who-ever it is deserves credit for coming up with such a sexy idea. :)

P.P.P.P.S Last one, I swear. The backdrop for this one is-just a bit-Superstar by Jamelia, which I don't own.


	3. Chapter 3

I need to get something out of the way.

I appreciate it when you add me to your favourites list or update list, or even when you add me to your face authors, but could you please review? When I compare the ratio of alerts to reviews, I'm _shocked_. I swear, I mean I'm writing here, and you all are reading. Even if you didn't like it, the _least _you could do is drop me a review and tell me, so next time I can be better and you can enjoy more! Because I feel very strongly about some of the stuff I put up here. I'd like to know if my work is fulfilling its purpose or not… It doesn't take that much to review, you know? Just review it™. Thanks to everyone who has reviewed, let it be known that it is deeply appreciated.

Feel free to copy the above rant into your chapters/profile if you want to make the same point to your readers.

Anyway, Chappie Tres! I still own nothing.

**.~*Three*~.**

Jim Kirk was getting to be rather good at diplomatic missions. His success rate was increasing exponentially. This resulted in him having to attend an increasing number of social-diplomatic events, which he hated. It was the only downside to diplomacy, really.

He hated getting dressed in stiff outfits and dancing with stiff ladies and men in stiff situations with stiff conversation about stiff topics. To sum it up, diplomatic balls were stiff, and they fucking sucked.

This one, however, was different. This one was almost fun.

More than a diplomatic event or a ball organized for them, this looked and felt like a local ball organized in honor of the local god of creation, and it felt much-better than being the centre of all that attention. Well, he didn't hate it, to any degree. He just didn't like it. He didn't like being '_special'_ for doing his job. He felt like he didn't deserve it, or something.

Either way, he just liked this informal setting.

The dance was being held in an open-aired square, lit entirely by gigantic fires in the four corners and the centre. Millions of stars were visible in the open skies above, and it was a breathtaking sight, the dark-blue un-touchability and distance of the stars tainted gold by the flames that flickered so far below, where they were, so close to them that the heat scorched Jim's fingertips.

The locals were dressed in traditional garb. Females wore long ankle-length skirts red and orange in colour, and long flowy tops of yellow and gold. They looked like a mass of richly pigmented flowers, then dripping in fine gold jewellery. The men were dressed in similarly coloured tunics and pants which were just as flowy. Spock briefly thought that they did not understand the meaning of restraint, but reconsidered; to each his own.

The dance began, and almost simultaneously everyone in the yard began moving, gently at first, swaying and floating like petals in the wind. But as drums began pounding faster, their bare feet began tapping out quicker patterns on the uneven red-stone floor. They began spinning and orbiting the large central fire, much like the planets and their sun. Small children dressed in flowy garb, only silver in colour and they began spinning and orbiting the adults, and keeping in time with the grand orbit around the central fire like moons.

The ladies' hands were alternating between in the air above their long flowing hair and flicking their skirts sharply in the opposite direction, and then they would start spinning counterclockwise while their male counterparts spun clockwise. Their hands and legs were adorned with gold bracelets covered in tiny chiming bells. The striking contrast between the rhythmic pounding of the drums and the delicate jangle of the bells was beautiful.

The music went faster and faster and the people kept in time, spinning and circling and Spock was amazed that they did not experience a decentralization of gravity, resulting in imbalance and generally uncoordinated movement (read: get dizzy).

It was amazing, in a word. It was truly breath-taking. From his vantage point slightly above, the courtyard was _ablaze_ with movement and colour, the ends of their clothes flickering and their jewellery flashing sparks. The people spun faster and faster until they weren't bodies anymore but tendrils of the fire, the flames which had spread across the whole of the courtyard like a hungry lick of flame across a pool of oil or old parchment.

It was breathtaking; he could almost feel the heat from the crowd in the chill of the night.

He wished Jim could see this. But his Captain was now most likely accompanying some beautiful young local to her bed, or somewhere in a garden engaging in pleasures of the flesh. Spock suppressed the following thought which involved Jim, himself and the aforementioned pleasures of the flesh. He shivered.

Such hedonistic thoughts were un_acceptable._

But there was a slight commotion below, and his attention was drawn. He suddenly saw the unmistakable gold of Jim's hair, which in this case was perfectly appropriate in a group of people imitating fire. Without much further ado, he joined it, and began the dance as if he had known it his whole life.

Each step was flawless; assured and confident. He never seemed to falter or forget a step, and never seemed to lose balance in the dizzying crowd with their confusing steps. Never once did he bump into anyone else (like Spock was sure he would have). He mingled, touching hands and hips and legs intimately, flashing beautiful smiles at everyone, and Spock found it impossible to look away.

To Spock he didn't blend into the crowd like the rest; he stayed distinct, a separate, glorious being that only swayed in time to the music like everyone else. In all other aspects he was uniquely Jim, and perfect as he was.

Not for the first time Spock wished he was down there, part of the crowd that could touch Jim, that could feel his soft hair and touch his cool skin and perhaps kiss his sweet lips. But he would forever be here, aloof as Just Spock, Jim's best friend and first officer. He would never be one with Jim, not at the risk of losing this beautiful friendship that they shared. He would forever remain _Just-Spock_.

How many times had he heard Jims' denials when McCoy accused him of behaving irrationally towards Spock? How many times had he denied sexual relations with Spock infront of admirals and other superior figures? He was _Just-Spock_.

He couldn't help but question the logic in these thoughts. Obviously they caused him only pain, and they would result in no improvement in his current relationship with Jim. It was illogical to continue thinking about the situation. It would be better if he focused on the festival afore him, a ritual he would not likely see again.

Suddenly Jim caught his eye and grinned. It was only for a split second, as in the next second Jim was spinning and dancing again, looking elsewhere. But he knew Jim had been looking at him and him alone, not at the rest of the crew around him. The knowledge caused electric shocks to ran down Spock's spine, scorching him inside and out. If one look did this to Just-Spock, what would it do to… He couldn't continue the thought. But maybe, maybe…

Maybe being Just-Spock would be enough.

**.~*~.**

Well? Good? Bad? Tomatoes or Reviews? Please throw reviews? Please? Pwetty please with sugar sprinkles and Spocks on top?

_I love you, not only for what you are, But for what I am when I am with you_

Love,

Lady Merlin


	4. Chapter 4

Heys everyone! I still don't own anything. I'll let you know when I do, yeah? *rolls eyes*

Also, I'm sorry about the thing I wrote in the last chapter. I realised I came across as a bitch and it wasn't intentional. I know I have no right to demand reviews, despite the fact that I desperately want them for reassurance and stuff. So, yeah. I'm sorry. *looks down*

I'm also sorry for delaying this chapter so much. Life's a bitch, and chapter five has been rewritten six (FUCKIN' _SIX_!) times so far. Chapter four (which is this one) has been rewritten twice, so yeah. Yeah. REVIEW!!! *innocent look*

**.~*Four*~.**

It's Lt. Sulu's birthday, and Jim had organized a party on the ship. He invited _everyone_. Spock was initially doubtful Jim would be able to pull off such a feat, actively involving all 427 members of the _Enterprise_ crew.

Spock doubts no longer.

Jim made an announcement that he was sorry they couldn't all be invited but spent a substantial amount of money sending each and every crew-member celebratory delicacies of no nutritional value what-so-ever. Spock was vaguely suspicious of this achievement because Starfleet had limited the amount of cake to be replicated per day to prevent precisely this occurrence. Spock knows better than to say anything.

When he asked Jim why he spent all that money on someone else's birthday he replied that there was nothing much he wanted to spend it on except his friends and the Enterprise, then looked embarrassed as if it was something to be ashamed of. Spock found this endearing. He had given up trying to convince himself that he did not feel, especially in relation to one amazing Jim Kirk.

The party (which Nyota had convinced (read: conned/blackmailed/threatened private parts) him to attend) was primarily for the bridge and senior crew, and the people they invited. It was being held in one of the Observation decks, which Jim and a few others had spent three lunches decorating, before McCoy had stomped in, gripped a resigned Jim off by the ear, and stomped out to make him eat something, much to the amusement of everyone else in the room.

Spock did not feel guilty in the _least_ that he had been McCoy's informant. Jim Kirk did not know what was good for him and if he did, did not seem to care.

**.~*~.**

Cue: dramatic transformation of the plain observatory into a bar like environment, inclusive of masses of streamers, confetti, balloons etc. In short, a place worth throwing a party in (to quote a certain CMO).

**.~*~.**

The party began at 1830 sharp. Or at least, people began streaming in, bearing presents for Sulu (who appeared to be so happy, he was unable to speak). It wasn't just the seven of the command crew who had been invited. Jim had asked 'what kind of party would that be' and Spock didn't understand it until the music came on and the lights went off.

The song was not one he could identify but Nyota informed him that it was a category of dance music called _House_ music. It was… enjoyable. There were no unpleasant guitars solos and vocals in the background. Instead the music seemed to be characterized by smooth digitally enhanced music, with much emphasis on drums and other percussion.

By the time he had completed his analysis his tea had gone cold and the politely mingling crowd afore him had morphed into a loud rhythmically pulsating entity. He could almost imagine how easy it would be to lose himself in there. It would be pleasant, to be someone else (that Jim could love) in the darkness where nothing was expected of him. He suddenly understood the appeal of this concept. Almost magically, Nyota approached, demanding that he join her there and then.

He refused. It didn't make a difference. She grabbed him in such a way that if he pulled away he would break her wrist. Clever (but cunning) Nyota.

He had no clue how to dance. He had never done this dance in his life. Never even considered trying it in the privacy of his room; it was so ridiculous. The sudden presence of a hundred other minds touching his mind through his standard issues science shirt was agonizing before he could acclimatize. But once he dulled his psi-abilities there was less meaning to each brush across his fingers and back and neck as people danced around him.

He observed. Many of them were inebriated. There would be no harm in trying, and even if he were caught he could blame it on Nyota and no one would suspect a thing because no one argued with Nyota.

The dance consisted of mainly swaying and… that was about it. Spock could discern no pattern to the madness of this activity, and the constant physical contact on his dulled psych (akin to knocks on a door) coupled with the loud music and his utter inability to do this were wearing on his control.

Then a sudden touch of a mind that was so familiar to his, that it came in, and it came _home_; Jim, and he (his control) was gone. He spun in the direction Jim stood. Nevermind that in the darkness punctuated by bright light he couldn't see anything, he _knew_ it was Jim. And in the flashes of light he could see Jim's stunning blue eyes sparkling clearer than the cerulean oceans.

To his disbelieving eyes, Jim began dancing. There was _nothing_ vulgar in the way Jim moved, sensuous and slow, delicious. His hips, and his sweet lips…

In his mind, Spock could just imagine what it would feel like if Jim were dancing with him. If Jim were touching _him_, instead of that female he was dancing with now. As Spock moved a small distance away, he retreated into his mind, into a dream he had seen a hundred times over.

Jim suddenly looked at him, and his gaze drew Spock from his mind. He grinned at him, and mouthed 'what's up?' at Spock, in typical Kirkian fashion. Spock shook his head, somewhat amused and somewhat aroused.

Spock hoped Jim would be unable to see the sweet, private revelation spreading through his eyes as he opened his mind to Jim's way of doing things. Then he remembered that Jim would be unable to see in the dark as well as he could.

A delicate (female, Caucasian, approximately twenty-five) hand gripped Jim on the shoulder and Spock tensed (which would have to be analysed). Jim spun and followed the beautiful un-identified female (which was strange because Spock, like Jim, knew everyone aboard), looking back to flash him a brilliant grin in the darkness.

That grin kept him occupied and he did not remember how he got back to his quarters. It also managed to keep him awake. More than the grin, which set his heart pounding, was the dark secret emotion in Jims eyes, and for the first time in a long time since he became close to Jim, he felt hope.

**.~*~.**

Well? I'm so scared it's _fucking_ OOC and oh fuck! Please re-assure me?! Please? PLEASE? Uh, consider it to be a man in _love_! Oh I'm scared! Please review?

Uh, also please let me know if it seems disjointed at any point, because I rewrote it in between to make it less OOC. At first Jim danced with Spock, like smexy-danced n'everything. *coughs* Yeah.

_My heart is at your service—Shakespeare _

Love,

Lady Merlin


	5. Chapter 5

Yello everyone! Here's chappie 5! Aren't you excited?

I still don't own anyone. My lawyer looked at me and laughed herself silly. I still don't know why.

Interestin' Fact: This entire series has been written on the bus on my way to and back from school. Cool no?

Oh, and I should warn you this chapter contains an OC (who is not involved with Jim—I could never do that to Spock) and I've used her before, and hopefully she'll be more developed here. I'd like some input on that—tell me if she's worth working with, or if is she bordering on *shudders*… _sue_-ishness—*cue evil music*.

Oh, and I hope you don't mind I had a male OC too, and instead of making him a kind dick, I kinda made him vanish cuz he's hard to write. And uh. I kept making Jim fight with him. *shrugs* must show an unconscious desire to see/write mano-a-mano stuff, be it fighting or sex. *hint*

P.S. I'm really sorry you guys. I've forgotten how many times I've written this chapter from scratch, because Jim kept doing crazy OOC stuff. So this is the last attempt and I fully intend to publish this before Christmas ends, so yeah. Sorry!

**.~*Five*~.**

They were on shore-leave, and Jim had received a call from a very attractive looking young woman, while they were at a restaurant having dinner. McCoy and Spock had remained at the table as Jim went to get the call, and had stared at each other for a solid beat before simultaneously looking away. Spock reminded himself that discomfort was an emotion, and therefore unacceptable.

The restaurant was aesthetically pleasing, and the atmosphere (of which he no longer denied the existence) was soothing (which was not, unlike discomfort, an emotion). His pasta was excellent, which in Spock's opinion was rare, and the company was enjoyable, except for McCoy's tendency to over-use certain vulgarities. Jim had laughed and dared him to tell McCoy that. He had undoubtedly been reading into some unintentional subtext. Humans were, and would forever be illogical. He had long ago given up deciphering the language Nyota had dubbed 'Human Male'.

Jim returned from his call, beaming. He informed them in excited tones that his best friend from childhood had invited him to her imminent wedding before they went back out. She had planned it especially so that he would be able to attend, which Spock thought was rather extreme but clearly showed her level of devotion and love for Jim. Which was, he supposed, sweet. Not that he would know anything about sweetness or any other illogical tastes in relation to life-forms. Except for the way Jim's lips closed over the fork as a gently sucked at it… Spock shook his head.

Jim eagerly made plans, including McCoy and Spock without second thought, and he and the doctor exchanged glances. It was absolutely characteristic of an excited Jim.

**.~* ~.**

Tara's husband (they were already _technically_ married) had had to run on urgent business, a Starfleet admiral who didn't understand the concept of an uninterrupted _leave_, and Jim sympathized. But Tara seemed both used to it, and completely unaffected. She ran towards the only blonde-haired man on the airbase with a surprising grip on logic and intuition (which normally clashed) and hugged him with an ear-drum shattering squeal.

Jim had laughed out loud and spun her around, much to the amusement of McCoy and other surrounding officers; Spock found himself distinctly un-amused. He rather found himself in tenure of a harsh, somewhat bitter feeling. He (correctly) classified it as possessiveness, and/or jealousy.

But he reminded himself that he would accept whatever made Jim happy, and unless Jim was that good an actor (which in hindsight, he was) she made him happy. So he would accept her. She hadn't done anything to him, and probably never would.

She smiled and kissed both of Jim's cheeks (and the monster in Spock's chest reared it's ugly head) then turned to both men, with an expression of surprise. "You _idiot_," she said and slapped the back of Jims head with her hand. "You forgot to tell me you were bringing friends!" Jim winced, then shrugged and childishly stuck his tongue out at Tara's back. "I saw that! Hey! You must be Commander Spock," she changed the topic without a hitch. Spock would _never_ admit to being startled.

Spock had resorted himself to shaking her hand, and was even more taken back when she lifted her hand in the traditional Vulcan salute, and said in perfect Vulcan, "Dif Tor Heh Smusma," meaning _Live Long And Prosper._

He replied, with a quirk of his eyebrow and a joining of his palms at chest-level, "Namaste, Tara," in what he _knew_ was an almost perfect Hindi accent.

She grinned and nodded slightly, as if acknowledging the presence of another higher being. It was somewhat confusing, enjoying the company of your supposed enemy. And then he wondered why, or when he had classified her as an enemy. _She made Jim _happy_. _

By then she had turned to McCoy and had let him kiss the back of her hand, before dipping slightly in a mock-curtsy. Then she and McCoy had burst out laughing, and Spock decided that there had to have been a reason she was close to Jim, and that he liked her.

**.~* ~.**

Tara was an aesthetically pleasing female. She had skin the colour of desert sand, and a warm serious face that was under no circumstances traditionally beautiful, until she smiled. When she smiled, her entire face lit up by her brilliant teeth, and her nose crinkled in an entirely endearing way. She was vertically challenged, a point which Jim didn't fail to raise at every possible instance. She always retorted with a whack to his head, or shoulder. They seemed very close. They _were _very close.

Spock reminded himself that jealousy was illogical, and that Jim and Tara were not dating (because she was about to marry someone else and Jim would chose the _Enterprise_ over any woman, any-day) and that _she made him __**happy**_.

**.~* ~.**

The wedding was stunning. He had been to one Christian wedding before, and it had been very still and tranquil, pastel shades all around. But this Hindu wedding was totally different.

Everything was painted in bright colours, of which red was the most predominant. It was startlingly similar to Vulcan rituals, with incredible emphasis on fire for whatever reasons. The actual rites finished rather quickly, and Tara informed him that what made Indian weddings notoriously long were the celebrations that followed. She, obviously, was right.

There were drums and trumpets and singing and for some odd reason, elephants. Everything about this wedding was new and strange, and interesting because he could see unique cultural symbolism in almost everything around them.

As the evening wore into night, the party showed no signs of drawing to a close. In fact, the people seemed to be re-energizing themselves with sweets and clearly alcoholic drinks.

And _then_ the dancing started. He was not wearing his watch, but Spock knew, based roughly on the position of the moon and relative stars that it was three a.m. local time.

It started off a large, unorganized group of people, dressed in a multitude of colours, dancing in small groups, pairs or individually. And then the so-far-average volume of music was blasted up until Spock (very illogically) couldn't hear himself think. The music was rhythmic, mainly drums and minimal strings. And someone yelled out a Hindi word with which he was unfamiliar, but people all around seemed to respond positively. He made a note to check out what the word _garba_ meant.

People picked up wooden sticks painted in blues and greens, which he had noticed lying around earlier. The room was cleared of all obstacles and the ground was swept as the jovial atmosphere magnified until happiness was the only thing he could feel through his psi-sensitivities, and that was rare.

Jim made his way through the crowd to him and McCoy, who had not yet noticed the free-flow of drinks at a bar nearby, otherwise he would have been off like a shot leaving Spock there alone. He was wearing a smile, and honestly that was all Spock noticed at first.

Then he saw that his friend was wearing garb similar to that of the Indian men in the room, consisting of a lose-ish knee-length tunic and pants. McCoy had arrived wearing black-tie attire, and subsequently looked ridiculously out of place. Spock himself was wearing semi-formal attire, trousers and a tee-shirt Nyota had forced him to buy.

He moved up very close to the duo, and spoke into their ears to be heard over the surrounding din. "I'm gonna go join in the dance in a bit, are you two okay?"

McCoy answered yes, and Spock nodded, and Jim looked reassured before walking away towards Tara and a group of people whom he seemed to know. He was clearly very happy. "Looks happy as a tribble on crack." Spock turned to his companion, momentarily unsure if the doctor had not _already_ imbibed copious amounts of alcohol. "If I didn't know better, I'd say he's in love with her."

Spock wondered how the Doctor had stolen his thoughts. "But I do know better," McCoy continued and gave Spock a significant look. Only he wasn't entirely sure what the look signified, so he accepted that his companion had indeed imbibed copious, _copious_ amounts of alcohol, and turned to watch Jim.

At some point during their conversation the people around them had formed two circles, one within the other. One was moving clockwise and the other, counter-clockwise. Each person in either ring had a partner, who changed after each cycle which consisted of movements with the sticks in either hand.

It was slow, and rhythmic and Spock was sure he would be able to participate if he chose. Then in the centre of the rings, a small group of people started up a dance with a much more complicated pattern. It was a single ring, and each person turned on their own axes with hand motions while moving clockwise and counter-clockwise in turns, and it sped up until it literally became dangerous to join the circle. And obviously that was where he saw Jim.

Jim looked as if he was watching, and keeping time, and suddenly without warning he jumped into the circle and instead of the collision that caused McCoy to wince (clearly his focus was the same as Spock's) Jim became part of the circle, with the dizzying motions taking him round and round.

Only when he looked at the large picture did he understand the appeal of the garb guests chose to wear. It flared out and glimmered beautifully as they spun, in both the inner circle and the outer one. And from his view of the bigger picture he could see Jim through windows of people, summer longer-than-regulation hair flickering as he spun in the dim light of the garden.

It reminded him of the celebratory dance on Evaro V (chapter 3), though not exactly. That one had been a society as one. This one clearly distinguished between friends and family and acquaintances, and Jim with right there in the centre, close to his friends and surrounded by people who took him as one of them. He was all the way outside, watching time pass, as if he was outside the high definition video.

And he was happy for Jim, happy that Jim was happy but he very selfishly wanted to be a part of it when his participation could very easily retract from Jim's happiness. And so he knew he must not, that he could not allow himself this no matter how he desired it.

"Don't let him fool you. He feels exactly the way you do, only he hides it better." McCoy had somehow obtained a drink when Spock turned to look at him. Spock wondered how anyone could hide anything better than a Vulcan could, but remembered then that this was Jim and after all, he was only half-Vulcan.

_Then_ he processed what McCoy had said, the cryptic statement that said nothing and implied everything, intended to leave the unknowing party out of the conversation. And Spock was again not sure (apparently McCoy and Jim could do this to him without thinking twice) but he thought he knew what McCoy was talking about. After all, he was clearly included in the conversation, unless McCoy was supremely inebriated and was talking to imaginary persons.

But one look into McCoy's surprisingly knowing blue eyes, and he knew exactly what the doctor was talking about, and despite his consistent annoying behaviour and persistent illogic the Doctor would never lie to him; that much Spock knew after six-and-a-half years of service with him.

And now all there was left to do was hope; hope that McCoy was right and that he knew Jim as well as he presumed he did (of course he did, he had known the Captain for almost a decade now), and hope that Jim felt this as intensively as Spock himself did, and hope that something would come of this feeling that was almost tangible.

So he hoped, as he watched Jim dance amidst strange people who would willingly have him, hoping that Jim knew the people who knew and loved him best were right here, waiting. Especially him.

**.~* ~.**

Well? I know it's long (that's good, right?), and it's been a crazy long time since the last update but I've forgotten how many times I've rewritten this because it's been crazy hard.

And I've been trying to publish something for Christmas, and failing at everything else I decided I'd do this one. So even though it has nothing to do with Christmas, Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!

Tell me what you think of this chapter, because I did it in a slightly different way, and involved wise!McCoy (one of my favourites) and I hope I did him well.

The dance is real, though not normally performed at weddings, and the ones in the centre are crazy hard (take my word for it)—they're so fast if you don't know what you're doing (like me) it's so easy to fall on your ass. I realise the description is not only confusing, but clinical, but I hope that goes to the added Spock-ish feel of the chapter?

Please review? Pretty please with chocolate-fudge-covered-Spocks on top?

_Pets are a great help in times of stress. And in times of starvation too, of course._

Love,

Lady Merlin


	6. Chapter 6

Aaaand, PLUS ONE!!! *bounces* I'm slightly sick, same as before and my brain's been fried thanks to the fever, so expect a difference. Imagine that. A brain-pancake. I'd try that. Maybe it'd make me smarter!

I'll admit it's the first time I'm writing about KS _marriage_ but there's a first time for everything, right? _Right?_

Here's my warning to everyone. Every chapter so far had been one-sided slash, or pre-slash. Here there be SLASH. Yaoi, Shounen Ai, Man-on-Man, boy-love, Man-Sex, Gay-Love, Homosexuality, whatever the fuck you want to call it. If you have a problem with it, I sincerely suggest you leave, and don't say I didn't warn you.

Also, there be **lemons** implied here, perhaps a fade-to-black. If you don't like it turn around and WALK AWAY. P.S. The rating's gone up to M, cuz I don't want people to sue.

**.~*Plus One*~.**

Their wedding was supposed to be small and elegant, and only those closest to them had been invited. The key operative was 'supposed'. But they were Captain Kirk and Commander Spock, even when they were trying to be_ just_ Jim and Spock, and a whole bunch of people who hadn't been invited had turned up, and couldn't easily be turned down because of their positions.

Admiral Archer, Admiral Nogura and a few other Captains, as well as diplomats from other planets had gate-crashed, assuming they would be let in. And they were. Of course, they brought with them their entourages and free-loading press hounds, and then raving fan-girls who didn't seem deterred by the fact that Jim was, in fact, marrying a guy. What was supposed to be a small and unassuming wedding had rapidly grown in magnitude into a giant, grand wedding with close to a thousand people, crammed into the space meant for two hundred. It was _really_ crowded.

This was perfectly acceptable, until after the vows. Spock still had an illogical desire to 'shout from the rooftops' (a phrase McCoy had taught him for this purpose alone) that he and he alone would have Jim Kirk for all eternity. Granted, that humans and their fragile (read: flimsy) wedding arrangements were highly scandalous by Vulcan standards, but he was sure (yes, he was) that he and Jim would remain together till Jim's dying day, and then too they would not be apart for long.

However, after the vows the dancing began, and Spock had a very strong desire to dance with Jim, after having been denied this pleasure countless times in the past sue to various reasons. But this was proving harder than expected. There were many people who wished to dance with Jim and Spock, to talk with them and pass them their best wishes.

Initially Spock reminded himself to let alone, because Jim was, after all, marrying _him_, but after Nyota and Christine and Janice and Number One and his brothers' wife, Aurelan, danced with him, he was swarmed by extremely attractive women from the press. They were exactly what McCoy had termed, '_Jims'_ type', with shoulder-length blonde locks and spectacles, which, Spock was told (by the Doctor), implied an unbeatable combination of beauty and brains, figures which would have made lesser men soften and skirts that left enough to the imagination, which Jim found attractive. Spock knew this from much experimentation and experience.

And yet, watching them swarm him and the flicker of amusement that might just have been a feeling of being flattered from Jims' mind sent an insensible shot of pure _rage_ through Spocks' system. Who were _they_ to challenge his claim to Jim? They who knew Jim through interviews and pictures and stories and legends, to challenge _him_, who knew Jims' _everything_? How _dare_ they try to tempt Jim to look elsewhere, when he was what Jim wanted? When all he wanted was Jims' happiness and they; reflections of his glory?

But then he realised that he was being possessive, and illogically so, and he should stop. Jim was getting married to him, Spock, so he didn't let himself continue thinking the thoughts that would have plagued him before. Where 'before' referred to a darker time in Spocks past, of which Jim was not a major part.

Then he settled down, determined to _not_think, and watched as Jim gracefully turned down requests for dances from the aforementioned beautiful women. Spock allowed himself to feel illogical pride, and illogical joy.

But then the 'fleet assigned publicist approached Jim and whispered in his ear for a few solid minutes, and Jim sighed and held out his hand to the lady reporter closest to him. She accepted with a smile that metaphorically dazzled Spock, but Jim did not look interested, a fact in which Spock took more pleasure than he should have.

After half-an-hour of watching Jim dance with females who tried to constantly touch him in inappropriate manners, Spock was approached by Christine who asked him to dance, and since he had nothing better to do and it would be a more productive use of his nervous energy than sitting there and staring at Jim, he accepted. He had a feeling that she knew this, and that the women of the _Enterprise_ were on a mission to prevent him for nerve-pinching the molesting females and then getting himself incarcerated, and unable to enjoy his 'wedding night'.

Speaking of which, he had never really understood what was the big deal about a 'wedding night'. When Nyota mentioned it and explained, he told her that he had already had (enjoyed) intercourse with Jim, rendering the archaic term useless. She had giggled and blushed, then told him he was divulging too much information.

He was reasonably sure he would never understand any human, except for Jim.

The clock said it was 0010 hours, local time, and Jim was backing out of the dances, feigning exhaustion. Spock could tell he was still energetic, through the bond, and sent a feeling of relief. Jim flashed a knowing grin at him, and made his excuses fast. They bid farewell to their friends, ignored some inappropriate jokes and left.

In the short walk to the transporter in the open night, Jim heaved a sigh of content and offered his hand, which Spock took without second thought. The stars twinkled in the sky above them, the moon invisible. He didn't have to say anything; Spock knew.

"Shall we go home?" Jim asked, voice tender like his eyes.

Spock inclined his head. "I will follow you, t'hy'la."

And they both understood what the other actually meant, and Spock thought his heart could burst with joy because he'd never thought he'd ever find someone who completed him like this, especially because he was different from Humans and different from Vulcans and there was no one like him. But Jim still managed to understand him, perhaps better than he understood himself. And Spock would never tire of the feeling that he was secure and wanted, no matter what.

He would always, unconsciously, compare it to the times when he had been left aside, watching. But he wouldn't think of that now.

The trip back to their now-shared quarters was short, and quiet. The door slid shut with a quiet _swoosh_ and Jim locked it with a word.

"I do not think that you would need to lock the door. No one will interrupt if their jokes were to be taken seriously." Jim grinned as he pulled his socks off and chucked them in a corner. The room was almost comic, one side ridiculously neat and the other disorganized to an extreme.

"I profess, t'hy'la, I have a desire to dance with you." Jim looked up at him, eyes suspiciously moist. Spock felt the need to explain. "I know you are proficient at dancing; I have watched you and have longed to be your partner from a distance for many years."

Jim crossed the room in two steps and tiptoed to kiss Spock soundly (he'd never admit it), then whispered, "Stalking me, were you?" his tone was teasing, hidden laughter, even deeper; intensity.

"Not so much a stalker as a secret admirer, Jim." Spock felt no shame in speaking openly, especially since he and Jim had become lovers.

Then Jim did something that surprised him; he slid from Spock's hands and started his computer, and quickly opened up a folder and double-clicked an icon. He made his way back to Spock, smiling sweetly in a way that affected Spock's heart-rate, and guided Spock's hands to his left shoulder and right hip. He put his own cool hands around Spock's waist, and then the music began. Spock didn't take more than a second to register, and when he did, he kissed Jim on his closed eyelids, bending just a little.

It was a quiet song, something Spock had never heard before. It was a typical Jim song, non-mainstream and peaceful; piano chords and maybe a violin. "You will have to lead me. I do not know—"

Jim put a finger on Spocks' lips and smiled, before taking a step forward and making Spock take a step backwards. Then he took a step to the left and after that Spock didn't bother following, because Jim was guiding him with gentle pressure on his hips and taking them around the room and he was dancing! His feet followed the rhythm easily because of the memory of dancing from Jims' mind, and what was muscle memory for Jim was almost the same for Spock.

He was dancing with Jim and he had never felt more content, never quite as happy. Jim rested his head on Spock's chest and he realised Jim was no longer leading and they were still dancing and he could have laughed with joy. He had never acknowledged before this, how deep seated the desire to dance with Jim actually was. Jim glanced at Spock's face and the smile that graced his face made Jim laugh.

"If I'd known it would make you so happy, I'd do this everyday, love."

"Jim you don't need to do anything to make me this happy. Simply being there does the same."

"Then you'll be happy forever, because I'll be with you for that long."

Spock kissed Jim in response, overwhelmed by a tide of sweet emotions, standing there in the middle of their room, Jim's tie undone, shoeless, jacket abandoned and hair mussed, no longer taking steps but gently swaying on the spot, and thought he could drown and never be sad again.

The kiss turned urgent and before long all their clothing lay in a tangled pile where Jim had tried to pull everything off at once and Spock had pinned his wrists to Jim's body and done it himself without choking anyone.

Spock didn't want to stop kissing Jim, didn't want that sweet taste to reduce under any circumstance, didn't want to not feel Jim's muscles beneath him, hot and slick.

Their love-making was sweet and slow, friction making them crazy with expanses of familiar skin and the wonderful pressure of another body on their own, with no rush or impatience, tempered to a sharp agony before they both came and fell asleep.

When Spock awoke, Jim was watching him, fingers carding his soft black hair. He kissed Jims still-swollen lips. "Love you Spock."

"I love you too, Jim. Thank you for dancing with me."

"Any time, love."

*~*~*

It's been a great ride guys. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did.

It's been forEVER since my last update, and my style has changed a bit since then, so again this might not be in sync with the other 'en lair' pieces, but. Oh well. I hope the idea came across. :D REVIEW!!! Shit. My battery is dying. REVIEW anyway!

Loads of Love,

Lady Merlin

_I love it when you use my name_


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